Stopping By The Deer River Flow, Part 1

I drove home from our aborted Jenkins Mountain hike and found both Winky and Wally asleep in the farm apartment, apparently unaware that we'd even even been gone. But I let all the dogs out into their fenced yard and began settling in for the night. The next morning we all left for home by way of the Port Kent Hopkinton Turnpike, that series of small Adirondack roads which was once upon a time a major means of transporting goods from Lake Champlain to the north country. I stopped when I saw this familiar sign for the Deer River Flow:

I pulled off the road onto a narrow dirt lane through the forest with the Deer River Flow on one side. It was a marvelous place to let the dogs out:

We walked away from the car investigating. Winky, as is his custom, lagged behind and needed to be urged forward:

Running Clubmoss grew all over the ground - or at least where it could find spaces between the fallen tree limbs:

And then we walked down to the Deer River Flow. It was peaceful and beautiful:

Seamus got his feet wet but apparently that was enough for him on that damp day:

There was evidence of a lot of beaver activity, not at all surprising I suppose:

I could see out over the flooded fields of the Deer River Flow to conifer forests not far beyond:

It was raining lightly that day and the trees gave us some protection as the dogs and I investigated the forest:

We walked the dirt lane for a bit and then all got back into the car to continue our drive home:

The East Shore Of Black Pond, Headed South - Part 5

If you've been following these posts you know that my legs had become weak and I'd cut short our hike to Jenkins Mountain. We were returning to the trail head via the trail on the eastern shore of Black Pond which, I'd discovered to my chagrin, was considerably longer and hillier than that on the western shore. But that doesn't mean that I was not appreciating the gorgeous Adirondack scenery:

We were cresting a hill when off to the right I saw a huge rock jutting out into a hidden bay. The dogs ran down to investigate and I followed, though admittedly slowly:

This hidden bay or cove of Black Pond was absolutely pristine, an experience to make the heart sing even if one's legs are giving out:

The dogs, of course, trotted right down to the water's edge:

But soon we were back on the trail:

I passed by a hillside covered with Trailing Arbutus, a plant I recognized from others' nature blogs but had never seen before in real life:

I was limping painfully and slowly back toward the parking area. I passed a young woman, probably a Paul Smiths student and the only other hiker I'd seen all day. She was heading into the woods to enjoy a sandwich amid the natural beauty. I managed to straighten up and walk almost normally until we'd passed by her, and then limped the rest of the way back to the sign out book:

I loaded the happy dogs back into the car and then got in myself. Sitting down on a padded car seat never felt so good!:

Directly across from the parking are was this sign for the St. Regis Presbyterian Church:

I drove off the road to find the church and saw this magical building, looking like something in a fairy tale. But I couldn't imagine where their membership came from unless, perhaps, from Paul Smiths College. But my legs were far too sore and weak to get out and take a closer look. I photographed it from my car and then began the journey home. Winky and Wally were waiting for us back at the farm apartment:

The East Shore Of Black Pond, Headed South - Part 4

I'd opted to return to the trail head by way of the eastern shore of Black Pond, not realizing that the trail would be much longer and hillier. My legs were weak and sore, causing me to limp painfully. Around every bend I hoped I'd see the parking lot but around every bend I saw only more trail:

On the other hand, this trail was much less used and was more wild and beautiful than the one on the western shore. I could see the fire tower atop St. Regis Mountain across the pond:

I passed by this most amazing fallen tree trunk, obviously a favorite of woodpeckers:

The trail took us away from Black Pond and up a hill:

And into a mixed forest:

I stopped and marveled at this wondrous moss, a filigreed, ferny sort of plant which I don't think I've ever seen before:

And down to the water's edge once again, so close in fact that they'd set down planks for hikers to walk on:

It appeared to me that we were not at the main body of Black Pond but rather at a cove of some sort::

A beautiful cove which no one ever saw except those few who took this lesser used trail:

And then the trail once again took us away from the water and up a steep hill. I was becoming very tired and hobbling like a crippled man. Fergus and Daphne looked back at me, apparently concerned with my strange and slow gait. I'll post more tomorrow: